Song Challenge
by Menamebephil
Summary: Gah. Least Inspired Title Ever. Oh well. A collection of oneshots, each written to a different tune. Hopefully not awful.
1. Disc I

**Song Challenge.**

**Christ I'm hung over. This is probably one of the worst frames of mind to write anything ever, but maybe this will distract me from the fact that I appear to have swallowed a pair of live weasels, neither of whom can stand the other, while simultaneously drilling a couple of air holes in my temples.**

**Damn straight it was a good night.**

**Anyways, on my profile, a few of you might have noticed that I mentioned an attempt to write a song challenge. Well, this is round two. Let's rock. These are of wildly varying length and quality, but I enjoyed writing them.**

**--**

_Young Lust- Aerosmith._

For your consideration...

Sex.

He didn't get it, not really.

Well, not the act itself, when it came to _that_, he flattered himself that he was reasonably familiar with the procedure. More so than most, really.

But he didn't understand all the social stigma surrounding it. Or, at least, the way he went about it.

Most of his team mates didn't understand, and he (of course) couldn't find the words to explain to them. He'd learned not to let it bother him.

The point was, sex was, to many people, a spiritual, intimate, even (to some) an almost quasi-religious experience.

But to him, the main point was that it was _fun_. And he saw nothing wrong with enjoying himself sometimes.

It wasn't that he was a ladykiller (as some bizzarely labelled him, although they could never say it with a straight face anywhere near him). If she wasn't after the kind of relationship he was looking for, then that was fine. He would respect that. He wasn't some kind of sex-mad fiend.

It was just that he liked girls. In a fairly active way.

Robin had had words with him. He, of course, had done all the talking. It had been amusing to watch the normally fearless teenager skirting the issue, instead reminding him that whatever he did reflected back on the Titans as an organisation. His piece said, Robin had continued his inspection.

Jericho had shaken his head after him. Everyone over analysed these things.

Frankly, he wondered if people were just surprised he was straight. **(1)**

--

_Exodus- Bob Marley._

Flying was a drug.

He had so many problems, so many things to think about, so many reasons he should be a worrying, nervous wreck.

But he couldn't bring himself to care. He was lost, tumbling, soaring, drinking in the adrenaline.

Every time he tried to focus on what he was trying to do, where he was going, why he was going, he would be distracted by the feel of the sun on his pinions, or the sudden exhileration of puncturing a cloudbank.

He had so many problems. So much he had to do, to plan.

They would keep until he touched land again.

--

_Home- Foo Fighters._

Where was it? She didn't know.

It wasn't Tameran, that much was obvious. Sister Dearest had taken care of that.

So where?

It shouldn't have bothered her. She had wandered the galaxy for _years, _never stopping anywhere for long, just long enough to collect, by fair means or foul, whichever was easier, enough to keep moving.

But before, it had all been something of a game. There had always been her backup plan if everything went wrong.

People had claimed that she had 'conquered' Tameran. She liked the sound of that, especially since she had essentially conquered the planet solo. _That_ had been quite the trick, or so it had seemed.

But really, it had been a bloodless coup. She had just turned up one day, and demanded the throne from Galfore. What could he have done? In the end, she was the And'r, no matter _what_ the colour of her hair, or the date of her birth, and Galfore was just a caretaker of the throne.

Of course, then she had to go do something short-sighted and petty, like force her sister into an arranged marriage for something as base as a vendetta. Utterly typical of her.

With no company but the asteroids, she admitted to herself that she had gotten her comeuppance for that one.

But now, now there was nothing to go back to. She had her freedom, something she had always wished for, and here there was no one to judge her, not for _anything_. But all she wanted was to be home. Wherever that was.

_Home is where the heart is_, she thought to herself, echoing a phrase she had picked up from her short time on Earth.

Where was that? With her family?

What family, her paernts were dead, her sister had disowned her, and Galfore...

It was hard to tell what Galfore thought. He was bound by his oaths as a K'norfka, but apart from that?

No.

Blackfire shook her head and flew onwards, leaving nothing but a few drops or rain.

**--**

_Wild One- Thin Lizzy._

Nightwing was able to keep his mind on the job, most days. Usually, his thoughts were free of memories of red hair and green eyes. But not all days, and on those days the criminals of Jump City knew _pain_.

He didn't sleep much- she turned up far too often in his dreams.

She always looked the same, in his mind's eye. Never did she appear as she was when she was at hom- the tower, sunny smiles and melodic voice.

No, he remembered her at her most beautiful to him. In the heat of battle, twisting through the air, strong and brave and utterly, utterly _free_.

Her hair fluttered after her in those moments, her eyes blazed, and she turned the battlefield into a stage. She would piruette, she would _dance_. But this was no ballet. It was primal, instinctive, and curiously savage. She was untamed. She was feirce. She was beautiful.

Then he would wake, and purge her face from his mind yet again.

**--**

_Thank You For Loving Me- Bon Jovi._

I've never been a particularly spiritual person. Odd, you might think, but it's true. I've never been one to imagine that my life is guided by some greater power, for fear of finding out which higher power is running my life.

I think I've got a pretty good idea anyway. I know not thinking about it won't change things, but _saying_ that and actually living according to the principle are very, very different things.

But here, at the end of everything, about to finally fulfill my destiny, I can't help but think about all that I've come to believe in.

Nothing so intangible as religion. All my belief is reserved for four people. All my thanks. All my...faith, I suppose.

I just wish I could say everything I need to. But there's no time, and they're not here, anyway.

Robin. You gave me strength. When things were at their bleakest, you always, always, had a plan, had a way to fix things, had the confidence that came from knowing what had to be done, and that you could do it. You were our leader, and I would have followed you into He- anywhere. You would have been a great man.

Starfire, you gave me kinship. You were unrelenting in your insistance that we would become friends, and if that meant you had to sit through hours of meditation and accompany me on my infrequent trips to those poetry readings you pretended not to despise, then that was a price you were prepared to pay. I didn't understand at first. I think I do now, and for that...thank you.

Cyborg. You, above all people, _understood_. You listened to me when I had to vent, you offered advice when you could (and you could, much more often than I think either of us expected), and you were just _there_, never judging, even when I said things that were (in retrospect) completely unjustified, or utterly asinine. I... will miss our talks. Assuming that I will still be able to miss things afterwards.

Beast Boy... you... you gave me hope. It sounds strange, I know, but you were so _patient_ with me. You were the first person to actually try to get to know me, and I know at the time I didn't really appreciate it as much as I should, but I appreciate it now, as late as it undeniably is. You prodded and pried and were determined to find out everything you could about me (_why_? What made me so interesting? I guess I'll never know), and I was so scared about what would happen if you ever found out. Of course, when you did, you accepted it. Completely. I suppose I should have anticipated that, your whole character points to it, but I didn't. And you made me hope, just a little. Thanks, Beast Boy.

It's getting harder to concentrate now. He's too strong to keep out completely, and my perception is dulled.

I can still feel their pain, though. I know they can only forestall the inevitable. Sooner or later one of them will fall, then another, then all. There is nothing I or they can do.

There is one thing. I can spare them pain.

Goodbye.

--

**(1)- Before anyone gets offended by that, it's simply referencing the fact that there was some question when the character of Jericho was being created as to whether or not he should be gay. Eventually, that idea was rejected as being "too much of a stereotype".**

**Well, this distracted me from my hangover, so I guess it did the trick. No idea if it's worth your time, though.**


	2. Disc II

**Well, I guess I might write a part two to this. This will be perpetually Complete, although I will add to it whenever I have nothing else to do, and feel the urge to write. Most of these are more concerned with the feel of the song than the lyrics.**

**N.B. Apologies to all who are waiting for Fissure to start up again. I had forgotten how much of a perfectionist my sister is. If you want to look at some of her other works (which I heartily recommend), the link is in my profile, near the top.**

**--**

_Wonderful Tonight- Eric Clapton._

It's funny.

I'd been dreading this for hours_. _For lots of reasons.

It would destroy my hard-earned credibility as surely as if I showed up in nothing but my mask and y-fronts.

It would remind me far, _far_, too much of those stupid balls Bruce always had to attend (and of course he had to drag me along too).

_I couldn't dance_.

Well, that wasn't true. I was actually pretty good at ballroom dancing, although I'd had to brush up in a spare minute, and I still was nowhere as good as I had been.

A related fear.

Someone (probably Beast Boy or Cyborg) would catch me trying to remember how to dance.

Luckily, that one hadn't happened, most likely because they were both still on duty. I should be thankful for the small mercies.

But still... I hadn't exactly been looking forward to this. The fact that my _date_ (ugh) had at her beck and call a horde of disgusting moth creatures was just the icing on the cake, really.

But now?

Now, as we turn slowly, in _much_ closer proximity than I'm used to, amidst the wreckage, well...

Things could hardly have turned out better.

--

_Wanted Dead or Alive- Bon Jovi._

He ran. They followed. All part of the game.

In his first year of his career, he had made enough money to retire on. In his second, he had more money than he could feasibly count. He didn't have to do this any more.

But then, if he'd been in this for money, he would have teleported out long ago.

He wouldn't be making any stupid quips. He wouldn't have _waited_ while they all got out of that sludge trap.

He _especially_ wouldn't have shouted encouragement from the sidelines, or given tips on how to dissolve the goop (lemon juice did the trick perfectly, as he had found out the one time he'd got some stuck in his hair).

He did it because it gave him a kick. And one of the biggest jokes was he was wiling to bet that next time they arrived to try fruitlessly to thwart him, the tin can would be carrying citric acid.

Of course, he wouldn't actually use the goop that time. He would wait until there was a good chance he'd stopped bringing the acid.

All part of the game.

It was so _funny_, watching Robin getting so worked up about all this. Sometimes, it was all he could do not to laugh watching him take everything so _seriously_. He was one big bubble of stress, and he saw it as his civic duty to try and pop the bubble.

The others weren't as amusing (although some were definitely more fun to look at), but he liked them anyway. They seemed like nice enough people, and they knew their parts by now, and so (if he was feeling generous) he'd let them recover whatever he had stolen, in return for them being such good sports about all this. Sometimes they got the stuff back anyway, whether he let them or not. But where would the thrill be if this wasn't a challenge?

_God_ he loved his job.

--

_I Can't Quit You, Baby- Led Zeppelin._

They all say I should leave you alone, you know. They say you want to be left alone, and don't I have enough respect for you to allow you that?

How can they all be so _blind_? Seriously?

Some days, I don't think they get you at all. Well, except Starfire. She's on the right wavelength. But she's too polite to disbelieve you to your face.

But the guys, they...I don't know, it sounds really harsh when I put it like this, but you know I've never been good at putting my thoughts into words.

Some days, I think they don't see you as _human_.

Now, don't get mad, or anything. I don't mean they think you're _less_ than human. If anything, it's the other way around. They think you don't get sad, or lonely, just because you _say_ you don't. I... it still seems bad the way I'm putting it, but its like they forget you're only _half_ demon.

They just assume that simply because you _say_ that you're fine, then you _are._

I've used _that_ excuse enough times to know when someone else is trying it. And trust me, nothing is worse than being left alone when you want to be alone.

I know I suck when it comes to having plans, so this one's gonna be simple.

I am never going to leave you alone. Ever. Ever ever.

Don't give me that look. I mean it. The only time I'll leave is when I'm _dead._

Or...

Nah. Nothing else.

It's nothing, alright?

No, I wasn't gonna say anything else.

...Oh? You can tell? Well, can we _pretend_ I wasn't gonna say anything else? Thanks.

Anyway, where was I?

Oh yeah. So you got me sticking around for a while. I guess you gotta get used to it, 'kay?

What do you mean 'why'?

Oh, I get ya.

I guess... I guess it's 'cause I... like you, and I think- no, I _know_, that you don't wanna be alone.

Don't you smirk at me, missy. You aren't as mysterious as you'd like to think, ya know.

There is another reason too.

I... I don't wanna be alone either.

--

_Lose Yourself- Eminem._

The shameless pursuit of happiness, that was what it was.

He would indulge himself in something, just a little. He would eat more, or spend longer on his computer, or something similar. And slowly his priorities would shift inwards.

It was a slow start, but the process gained momentum as he isolated himself more and more from humanity. And as his priorities changed, so did his way of seeing the world.

Conventions standing between him and his wants? Ignore them. They didn't really matter, and it wasn't hurting anyone.

Laws saying he couldn't have what he wanted? Ignore them. They were, after all, just stale opinions that just happened to get written down in the right place at the right time.

Laws of _physics_ getting in his way?

...Ah. Now that was a trick.

But the results spoke for themselves, didn't they?

--

_Because You're Young- David Bowie._

Slade leant back in his chair, shutting off the feed from his camera.

There. That was it. The last of his robots was destroyed. The last thing tying him to this city gone. The last bit of outstanding business taken care of.

To be perfectly honest (and he was, surprisingly often) he felt he had owed the boy something. Closure, if nothing else. Using Terra had been a sound tactical move. He felt no regrets there.

But the closeness between Beast Boy and her... nothing about that sat right. That hadn't been in the plan.

To further compound the problem, the Titans had survived, while Terra (and Slade, at least temporarily) had not. So the whole damnable situation had been ended very messily.

Twanging on the boy's heartstrings had rankled. So, when he'd seen the opportunity to give the boy some closure, he had taken it.

And it had worked, with any luck. He had given his message, and Beast Boy had worked off a lot of frustration. Hopefully the boy would at least _consider_ what Slade had said, and finally move on properly.

Humming lightly to himself, he closed down his computer (a laptop, since he had moved out all his serious hardware weeks ago), first checking that all his emails had been received.

He still had a contract on the Titans. His employer was an imprisoned quadrapelegic, and unlikely to be going anywhere any time soon, and so quite tragically unable to _enforce _the contract, but it was still _his _to fulfill. Hypothetically, anyway.

So he had made it known that if he heard of anyone else going after his targets, they would find themselves hunted by Deathstroke the Terminator. That pseudonym alone was enough to persuade most to stay out of Jump, although he couldn't be sure that Deadshot wouldn't try something.

In his own twisted way, he had become quite fond of the Titans. More so now Joey had found a place with them.

And if anyone was going to kill them, it was going to be _him_.

...He was going to have to pay Lawton a visit, wasn't he? He wouldn't put it past Floyd not to try something against the Titans, just to goad him.

**--**

**Well, that was fun.**

**And yes, Control Freak _was_ the star of number four. Why do you ask?**


End file.
